---

And their fortune has turned

As before them stood salvation

Thy famed fornicator of Beor

Thusly spake to his chosen

Commiserate with the wicked

Let their filth fill thy spirit

Bound by leather

Lay among the squalid hides

Throngs of wailing harlots

Scabbed and sore in squalor

Pus flows from cunt to cock

All in reverence of Balaam

Glorification of carnal plague

Fester in broken pustules

Flame spread with seed

No prophecy at Pisgah

Nor blessing at Attarus

Will deliver thy cursed brood

From fervent Midianal lust

Piss in dire sin

Drenched in wicked sweat

Thy flock wholly infested

Not wood nor fetid hair of goat

Shall ever be pure again